Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
That gooey sensation only intensified as I pulled each item out, realizing that I’d never known a man who knew how I took my coffee, let alone what dinners I liked, and what kind of dessert tended to call for me in the middle of the night.
I mean, this man had even had the delivery guy pick up a can of whipped cream because I’d mentioned once that I liked to use that as a topping on my cheesecake.
I took my food to the coffee table, eating while watching someone turn their garage into, I shit you not, a giant craft room.
And I didn’t, not for one moment, wish that Dav was sitting there beside me, grumbling about paint and wallpaper choices, or wondering how the hell two public school teachers could afford a hundred-thousand-dollar renovation.
When I was done, I made up the couch and lowered myself onto it, pleased when the movement created more of an ache than the stabbing pain I’d been dealing with in my ribs for weeks.
Did my paranoia have me placing the gun Dav gave me on the coffee table? Yes, yes, it did. I may have also stashed my mace in between the cushions and my knife under the pillow.
Then, to the sounds of drilling and sawing on the TV, I drifted off to sleep.
Which was probably why, at first, I thought it was a dream. Just another in a long line of sweet moments that led to sweaty bodies entangled in one another in bed.
It was the only explanation for how Dav had managed not only to come into the apartment, but reach down and slide his arms under my body before he even woke me up fully.
By the time I realized it wasn’t a dream, I was already being lifted into Dav’s arms and cradled to his chest.
My senses filled with him.
Tobacco, leather, and vanilla surrounded me, dizzying in its intensity.
The heat of him warmed my chilled skin.
I settled into the strength of his arms, the breadth of his chest.
Sure, I was still a bit hazy from sleep, but I felt oddly drunk on all things him at that moment.
“What are you doing?” I asked, managing to think through the desire starting to overtake me.
“Taking you to bed,” he murmured, his voice a soft caress teasing across overly sensitive skin.
“Okay,” I agreed, snuggling in, every part of me deciding that Dav taking me to bed was the best idea in the world.
CHAPTER NINE
Dav
Renzo’s place was pretty packed by the time I got there, the music in full swing, everyone already holding plates and drinks.
I immediately sank into the crowd, getting my own food and eating, so I didn’t stick out too much.
Even as I fell into conversations with men and women I hadn’t seen or spoken to in weeks, though, all I could seem to do was think about Cinna.
In my apartment.
In my bed.
She almost looked completely back to normal these days. Her bruising had gone from coalescing, violent shades of mulberry and indigo to bright yellow and green with just a hint of something darker in the center. The swelling was completely gone, leaving her ridiculously gorgeous face with no lasting damage.
Really, it was just her wrist and her ribs holding her back at this point.
Well, that and her own trepidation.
We hadn’t talked about it. Any time I tried to bring up the attack and the people responsible for it, she clammed up, tensed, rushed to change the topic.
The thing was, something was different with Cinna because of that attack, because of those bastards and what they’d done to her.
For the first time in her career, it seemed like the violence had not only impacted her physically, but mentally as well.
She tried to hide it.
And maybe no one else but me would have picked up on it.
But she was jumpy.
I’d once seen this woman not even flinch when a bottle flew at the wall beside her head and shattered.
Now? She nearly jumped out of her fucking skin when the intercom buzzed or there was a knock at the door. Hell, once a damn pigeon landed on the sill outside of the window, and she jerked so fast and hard that she’d jarred her ribs enough to bring tears to her eyes.
This attack had changed her.
I imagined that was the only real reason she was still in my apartment rather than back at her own. She wasn’t mentally ready to leave yet.
I mean, sure, her ribs were still bothering her. But not enough that she couldn’t go back to most of her daily life duties without an issue.
She just wasn’t emotionally ready to go yet.
Not that I was complaining.
Clearly, since all I could fucking think about was her even when I was supposed to be enjoying my time with all my fellow capos and my boss.